


'Til Death Tears Us Apart

by Kitexa



Category: Rory O'Shea Was Here (2004), Shame (2011)
Genre: Angst, Community: mcfassy, Crossover, Drabble, M/M, Romance, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-05
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-07 13:04:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/748817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitexa/pseuds/Kitexa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“He’ll have you running around ‘til death, if you let him.”  Yeah...yeah, no kidding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Til Death Tears Us Apart

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my biggest McFassy OTP at the moment, as are both films my latest obsessions. Written for a prompt on tumblr but posted here because it fits in perfectly with another Brory piece I've got in the works. 
> 
> Should also be noted I'm a little iffy on my Brandon-writing skills. Ah well. Hope you...enjoy?

"Ya knew this was gonna happen." Rory rasped, cracking a weak smile beneath the respirator. "'Better- better I duck out now b'fore we really get- get to--" Words dispersed, a furious coughing fit wracking his slender frame.

Brandon flinched and grabbed the boy's hand, squeezing hard in a futile means of comfort. "Rory...I don't- you shouldn't talk.." 

"Bull- bullshit. "Wheezed the younger man, tearing further into the worried elder's heart. "'m no' dead, yet."

Maybe not..but he would be, if he continued pushing himself, this way. 

Rory must have read his face, for he frowned, mobile fingers wriggling against Brandon's palm. “What’d…I tell ya..’bout worryin’, huh?” 

A thin smile, blinking hard.“…not to.” 

“Tha’s…tha’s right.” “Leave th’ worryin’ t’ th’ ones who’re paid- paid ta do it…” Another breath, harsher, and Brandon fought to keep his eyes on the ailing blond. He’d once mentioned to Sissy how unassuming Rory seemed—5’6”, he’d guess, from head to toe. 4’6” in his chair. And yet this small man contained the oddest domineering charm. She’d laughed, Sissy had, mentioning something about oxymorons, and without knowing the man, he could see how she’d draw that conclusion. 

But speaking—living with him—Irish bastard knew how to pull his strings. 

_“I can see that.”_ She’d teased, “ _He’ll have you running around ‘til death, if you let him.”_

They’d fought after that, ending the night in voluntary seclusion. _(Watch your fucking mouth, you KNOW he won’t last long.)_

Dammit all, though…she was right. 

Plugged in like the bloody machines keeping him going and still, that mouth ran free. He’d find it endearing, if it weren’t so sad.

“Wh-what?”

“Hm?” Brandon looks down, noticing now the tear trailing down his cheek. “Oh, noth—it’s nothing.” He said quickly, rubbing it away. 

“Brandon…”

“It’s _nothing_ , Rory.” Hand joined the other, folding over the blond’s wrist. “Just…just thinking.”

Said blond continued to stare, skeptically. 

Observant little prick. _I’m going to fucking miss him_. 

Smile returned, wan and flimsy, reaching to stroke the man’s matted hair. This earned him a grunt, and sputtered “what’re you doin’?” 

“Nothing.” He repeated, then trailed off, hesitating. “…you’re cute. That’s all.”

Something like a scoff tried to worm its way past Rory’s lips, but collapsed in another violent coughing fit. Monitors came to life; beeping and buzzing as the boy struggled against the vicious sawing in his chest. It broke Brandon’s heart. And scared the shit out of him, on his feet in a matter of seconds. _Nurse- doctors- someone- I need to get—_

“D-Don’t..”

He froze, skidding to a halt by the door. 

“Don’t – _Hhhcck_ —don’ l-leave…”

Ouch. OUCH that…that really…Brandon’s face twisted, mirroring the sudden sick churning his belly. _No, no don’t do that, don’t beg, I can’t I CAN’T—_

He wouldn’t have to make that decision; the door swung open and a nurse bustled past, poking and prodding and pushing that nausea up and up. _Stay, stay, he wants you here, be here for him._

Several deep breaths, pinching his nose. Damn that kid, DAMN him. 

_“…running around ‘til death…”_

Yeah…yeah, no kidding.

As the chaos settled, Brandon again looked up, chest tight. Eyes found the nurse, who looked sympathetic but not…solemn, thank fucking everything. “…how is he?” He croaked, searching the woman’s face. Another place, time, he’d have wanted to mesmerize every twitch, curve, line…pull her close and crush her lips against the wall, window…

…another time, yes. Now, only Rory mattered. 

“He’s stable.” She told him, tucking a lock of dark hair behind her ear. An invitation, if he ever saw one, but Brandon cared only for the knot between her brows. 

“What- what else?” 

She sighed, and that look he hoped he wouldn’t see crossed her features. “If he’s got family, they should start comin’ ‘round. He won’t last more than a few days, at most.”

And there it was. 

Final confirmation. 

“F-ffuck…” Knees gave and he sank back into his chair, catching his head as he crumpled beside his still lover. That’s what they’d been, right? Lovers, partners, a damned dynamic duo of dysfunction?

“Sir?”

…each others' better half? 

“Sir, I really need ya to—”

“You call them.” He snapped, then sucked in a breath, raising his head. (You scare her, threaten, she’ll make you leave, you CAN’T leave.) “…Please.” He didn’t look at her, reaching instead for Rory’s hand. “I-I made a promise.”

The slow ‘click’ of a closing door served as his answer. Gaze tore long enough to ensure they were alone, before burying himself in the younger man’s torso. Careful arms encased his body, clinging as tight as he dared. 

Only then did he sob.

Only then did he break.

_Rory…Rory, I’m here…I’m here, see? Wake up, wake up, you Irish prat, it goes two ways. You can’t leave me, yet… please, don’t leave me, yet…_

**Author's Note:**

> GAH. These two. They break my heart.


End file.
